WHY
by ShunnedChipmunk
Summary: SSHP: Why does Harry have to visit someone in the middle of the night? Why are his friends so cruel when it comes to dares? Find out here!


"Why?"

"Because it's that or the same for McGonagall."

"It was a rhetorical question!"

Harry ran a hand nervously through his hair. Four pairs of eyes looked eagerly back at him, awaiting his decision of ultimate doom. After a moment of thought, Harry sighed, shrugged, and said, "Alright, I suppose it's better than McGonagall."

The inevitable hoots of amusement followed, causing Harry to question his decision to ever join in this game of Truth or Dare. Honestly, nothing good ever came out of these games, so why bother? Oh yeah, because it's a hell of a lot funnier when it's not your turn.

Seamus grinned at him. "Remember the rules, Harry. You can't say it's a dare. Since we all know that there's no way in hell you could get proof, we'll just have to observe closely tomorrow, aye?"

He said the last sentence with a laugh, and Dean, Ron, and Neville started laughing too.

"I cannot _believe_ you gits are making me do this," Harry groaned.

He braced himself and padded solemnly over to the dormitory door, as if marching to his death. Which, in all honesty, he probably was. Several "You can do it, Harry!"s followed him. He opened the door and stepped out into the hallway, questioning, "Why me?"

"Because—"

"Rhetorical question, Ron! Rhetorical!"

**x**

Slippers making muffled _thump_s as he trudged along the dark corridor, Harry pondered his fate. He supposed it could have been a lot worse. But he just _had_ to dare Seamus to publicly profess his "undying" love for Moaning Myrtle, therefore initiating Seamus' drive for revenge against him. Thinking it over, he supposed that it really could not have been worse. Why hadn't he just chosen McGonagall? That would be millions of thousands of lots of times better than this . . .

Harry rubbed his arms to ward off the cold as he moved to stand directly in front of the forbiddingly familiar door, his stomach sinking and his urge to run away like a little girl and/or throw up increasing all the while.

_For Gryffindor_, he thought. Another voice said _Screw Gryffindor, it's not worth it!_ but Harry silenced it.

Giving one final acknowledgement of the doom that surely awaited him, Harry rapped on the door three times, loudly, just so he wouldn't have to do it again. After a minute, he could hear some muffled cursing from within, and then footsteps. It took every ounce of willpower to keep Harry rooted to the spot, but he doubted he would make it very far if he started running even now. Someone fumbled with the door handle, and Harry came face to face with—

Severus Snape.

For a minute the man just stared at him. Then—

"What the—Potter! For what exceedingly foolish reason have you decided to disturb me at this ungodly hour of the morning, and why do you feel it necessary to make my life hell even after the Dark Lord has gone? It was not enough to ruin over seven years of my life with your presence, y—"

What else he was going to say, Harry never found out, because the rest was muffled by Harry strengthening his resolve and boldly crushing his mouth against his Professor's. Snape was obviously too shocked to do anything, and Harry pulled back after a few seconds. He took in the stunned look on his Professor's face, grinned, and ran off with a casual, "Ta ta for now, sir!"

**x**

He ran like the devil all the way back to the seventh year boys' dormitory, closing the door behind him and leaning against it to catch his breath. Four excited faces ran over to him and started asking questions all at once.

"Did you do it?"

"What'd he do?"

"Bloody hell, how did you survive?"

"He's the Boy-Who-Lived, idiot!"

Harry gave a shaky laugh, then slid down the door into a sitting position on the floor. They all sat down around him, beaming and expectant.

"I did it."

Three gasped and Seamus hollered, "Vengeance is sweet!"

"What'd he do?" Dean repeated.

Harry laughed again, less shaky this time and more thoroughly amused. "Nothing."

Neville gaped. "No way!"

"Are you serious?"

"Bloody _hell_."

Harry grinned and hit Ron upside the head. "Yes way. Almost shit myself though, walking down there. I knocked and he opened the door and just stared at me for a minute, then started ranting on how I'm an insolent brat and all, and, well, I shut him up."

They were all five grinning and Seamus began laughing insanely and rolling around on the floor, clutching his sides. "This is too—too good! AHAAHAHA!"

Ron said, "Shame we can't tell anyone, Harry'd be worshiped!"

It was a solid rule that any dare was only conversed about within the dormitory, and anything done during a dare was not explained at all to any non-seventh-year-Gryffindor-boy witnesses. They had created the rule two months ago when they'd assigned the first out-of-dormitory dare, which had been Ron sending a signed love letter to Professor Sprout. She never mentioned it, but Herbology lessons had been awkward for Ron ever since.

After Voldemort had been defeated at the end of their sixth year, there had been a lot of time to relax. They had started the on-going Truth or Dare game the very first night of Seventh year, the first dare being Dean daring Neville to jinx his hair orange and let Colin Creevey get a picture of it. It was mainly dares, but they called it Truth or Dare anyways. Ever since, it had continued on to every Friday night, and often multiple nights of the week. They kept a list of all the dares and whose turn it was in Harry's trunk, wrapped in his invisibility cloak. And now here they were, December Tenth (they'd all decided to stay for Christmas since it was their last year), game still going.

"Point for Harry!" Seamus cheered, now off the ground, marking the dare (_December Tenth—Issued by Seamus—Harry to kiss Snape—Completed_) on the list.

"Great, now I can dare someone else who is soon to be dying to extract revenge on me," Harry said with audible sarcasm.

"Dare away, my good man," Dean patted Harry on the shoulder. Harry rolled his eyes, then turned dramatically to face Ron.

"Ron—Truth or Dare?"

Said Weasley gulped, then weighed his options. "Dare."

Harry thought for a minute, and suddenly grinned. "_Accio_ knickers from the girl's dormitory and wear them all day tomorrow."

Ron's jaw dropped. "We have Quidditch practice tomorrow!"

Dean, Seamus, and Neville, who had already been snickering, laughed like outright loons at this. Since all of the Gryffindor Quidditch Team was also staying over Holidays, they'd decided to schedule a couple practices.

Harry smirked. "I know."

"And the other option?" Ron asked, still hanging to a small glimmer of hope.

"Go bald for a day," Harry replied nonchalantly, twirling his wand around.

Ron's look of horror increased, and the other boys laughed all the louder.

Strengthening his resolve, Ron nodded, "I'll do the first one."

They crowded around as Ron propped open the window and magicked the seventh year girls' dormitory window open. Giving one last wince, Ron said, "_Accio knickers!_"

Immediately a small wad of something that was of an indeterminable color in the moonlight sailed out the other window. It flew closer and closer, until Ron caught it in his outstretched hand. Gulping, he brought it into their dormitory. Pandemonium erupted when the other four saw that the knickers were of a pink, lacy quality.

Looking utterly defeated, Ron sighed, "At least they're clean."

**x**

When they all finally were in their respective beds, and Ron had been forced into the underwear since "technically it already is tomorrow", Harry sat pondering his dare. It was so hard to forget the feeling of successfully stunning Severus Snape into silence. Even harder to forget was the feeling of the man's surprisingly soft lips against his; he could still feel the ghost of them there, and was dying to know what it would be like to have that mouth respond to his . . .

There was a moan from the next bed over. "Oh these are so _awful_ . . . how do girls _do_ it?"

**x**

After a few hours of sleep, Ron, Harry, and Dean left the dormitory, brooms in hand.

"These are so uncomfortable, dunno why I didn't just go bald," Ron whined.

Harry laughed to cover the nervousness he was feeling at being in the same room as Snape, no matter how big that room was. "Shush up, someone might overhear and then wonder why four out of the five of us are usually in hysterics on Saturdays."

"And it's leagues better than Harry's was, you're lucky he went easy on you," Dean added.

They walked through the doors to the Great Hall and headed to join the rest of the team at the Gryffindor Table, Harry skillfully avoiding looking at the Head Table.

Ron continued fidgeting as they walked over. "S'pose you're right. This still isn't much fun, though."

"For Gryffindor," Harry recited cheerfully.

"For Gryffindor," Ron grumbled, sitting down.

Dean sat next to Ginny, and they shared a quick kiss before Dean started piling food on his plate. Strangely he felt happy for them, Harry mused as he sat opposite Ron and grabbed some toast. Dean and Ginny had been dating since the beginning of last school year, and Harry had felt something indescribable about it at first. Later, he realized he was feeling protective of her, just as Ron was. She was his best friend's sister, after all. Dean and Ginny worked well together, he thought happily.

Harry resisted the temptation to look up at the Head Table through all ten minutes of breakfast, even though he somehow knew that Snape was up there, and probably attempting to bore a hole through Harry with his glare alone. When all seven of them were finished, they got up, grabbed their brooms, and headed out of the Great Hall. Harry purposefully walked behind everyone else, and right as he was about to follow to the Entrance Hall, he turned to look at Snape, who was, in fact, glaring at him. Harry just grinned, winked at him, and went after his teammates out the door.

**x**

"Did you see how he was glaring at you during dinner, Harry?"

"It was awful, he looked like he wanted to kill you!"

Harry laughed and said, "Did it all during breakfast and lunch too. So? Do you believe I did it? I can assure you, I did."

Seamus thought for a moment, tapping his chin with his wand, then said, "Yeah, I don't think anything besides that could've made him so mad."

This started another round of laughter. They all managed to calm down long enough for Seamus to mark Harry's dare of the previous night as _Deemed as Complete by Issuer_, write down Ron's dare (not yet marked as complete), and set the list down on a nightstand.

"Shall we continue tonight, lads?" Seamus asked in the best British accent he could muster.

"Yeah!" They all cheered.

"All right, my turn, _finally_," Ron said. He turned to Harry with an evil smile. "Ready to pay for your knicker-torture?"

"Me again? Merlin, you lot must have it out for me."

"Who says we don't?" Dean commented casually.

Dean, Seamus, Ron, and Neville managed to keep straight faces for approximately ten seconds before they began laughing—again.

"Seriously, Harry—Truth or Dare?"

Harry thought for a moment. He doubted they suspected he liked his last dare, but if he chose Truth they might make him fess up to liking it . . . and if he chose Dare, then maybe they'd let him go see Snape again.

"Dare."

**x**

Harry was sincerely appreciative that Christmas Holidays had already started. He did not know how he would survive this on a day where he had to go to classes.

"I think we should get Harry a beret," Ron snickered as the five seventeen-year-olds walked down to breakfast.

Harry scowled at him, which caused the other four to laugh. Harry knew better than to answer—it'd just be worse.

The dormitory that morning had been torture. Ron was finally knicker-free and thoroughly enjoying being so.

Ron had kept trying to bait Harry into talking, which Harry very much did not want to do, due to his current condition. Harry made a mental note to go extremely easy on the next person he dared (or not), lest they make up anything worse for him.

Finally, Harry could not find clean socks anywhere, and so therefore was forced to speak.

"_Puis-je vous emprunter une paire de chaussettes_?" (_Can I borrow a pair of socks?_)

They all had turned to stare at him, then laugh again. "What?"

Harry had eventually gotten some socks from Dean, but it had taken ten minutes and Neville finally pulling out some parchment and a quill to do so.

Going into the Great Hall, Harry was scowling and muttering under his breath, "_Je me vengerai de tout ça . . . vous me le paierez . . ._" (_I will _so_ get revenge for this . . . you will pay . . ._)

"Now, Harry, I'm not quite sure what you're saying, but if it's a death threat, consider it futile," Ron said, patting Harry on the back as they walked over to the Gryffindor Table.

"_C'est que _******tu**_ penses . . ._ " (_That's what_ you_ think . . ._)

Harry could feel the glare on him again as he ate, and this time turned to look at Snape. All of a sudden Snape stood up from his seat and marched down to where Harry was sitting, grabbed Harry by the hood of his Muggle jacket, and dragged him bodily from the Great Hall.

Harry called a weak "_On se voit plus tard si je survis_" (_See you later if I _survive) to his amused friends before being pulled away and down a corridor into an empty classroom.

Snape closed the door then spun around to face a slightly-scared but not-defeated Harry, who was smiling.

"_Oui_?" (_Yes_?)

"I have waited patiently for over twenty-four hours for you to explain your actions, yet there has not yet been an explanation given. Now, _explain_, or I will both take points and give detentions."

"_Heu . . . Monsieur . . . vous allez devoir attendre encore vingt-quatre heures, parce qu'actuellement j'ai un petit problem . . ._" (_Er—sir, you might have to wait another twenty-four hours, because I have a bit of a problem currently . . ._)

Snape was perplexed. "Since when do you know French? Speak in English, you insolent Gryffindor."

Harry opened his mouth to speak again, but instead of talking he just slumped. "_Je ne peux pas_." (I can't.)

"Are you saying that you are incapable of speaking English?"

Harry looked up with a new light in his eyes. "_Vous ne parlez pas français_?" (_You don't speak French?_)

Snape looked very frustrated. "What?"

Harry smirked. This would be fun; finally able to tell Snape all the things he'd ever wanted to tell him . . . and throw in some other random very stupid things at the same time . . .

"_Vous ressemblez à une chauve-souris et vous me rendez dingue! Et puis je veux vraiment faire des trucs avec vous! Et vous savez quoi, j'ai une passion démesurée pour les hippopotamus! HA ! En vérité, non! En ce moment je profite juste de ce machin avec le français et je peux dire toutes les conneries que je veux_!"

(_You look like a bat, and you frustrate me to no end! And also, I really want to make out with you! And guess what? I harbor an unhealthy love of hippos! HA! Not Really! I am just taking advantage of this French thing for the moment, so I can say all the stupid shit I want to!_)

Snape stared for a minute, then said, "Go, Potter. Just go."

Harry pouted. "_Mais je veux vous embrasser_!" (_But I want to kiss you!_)

Snape raised an eyebrow. "If you keep spouting French in my presence, I will gladly deduct points from Gry—"

At this point, Harry had gotten wise and just flung himself at Snape, landing Harry atop him on the ground and kissing him soundly. Amazingly, Snape responded, and in Harry's surprise, the snarky bastard somehow got tongues into the mix. Hey, Harry wasn't complaining . . .

Then Snape shifted things, which left Harry underneath Snape and still being made out with. The harsh and cold stone floor beneath him just made the warmth above him all the more inviting, and Harry wrapped his arms around Severus' neck, pulling him closer and deepening the kiss. Holy hell, who knew the Greasy Potions Git could kiss like this . . . well, Harry crossed off greasy, the man's hair was actually pretty damn soft . . .

With a surge of Boy-Who-Lived strength, Harry rolled them back over, pinning Snape to the ground with his hips and pulling his mouth back with a wet 'pop'. He grinned at Severus, making it well-known that he, Harry Potter, was most certainly _not_ an uke!

Snape actually looked amazingly sexy like this, Harry decided; with flushed cheeks, mouth red from snogging, eyes glazed over with lust, and the usual cold mask forgotten. Harry leaned close to a pale ear and whispered, as sexily as possible, "_Peut-être que je devrais parler français plus souvent, Professeur_." (_Perhaps I should speak French more often, Professor._)

Even though Snape probably had no clue what he was saying, it was still husky enough to make the man's breath hitch ever-so-slightly. Harry chuckled low in his ear before heaving himself up and frolicking out the door in a cheery manner, smiling, with a last, "_A plus_!" (_See you soon!_)

**x**

To avoid further embarrassment due to the fact that the jinx placed upon him made it impossible to speak anything but French (curse those Dares . . .), Harry hid all day and was not able to be cornered about his abrupt leave from breakfast until that night in the dormitory. He had skillfully managed to communicate with Dobby via hand-signals to get lunch and dinner in the kitchens, but it was futile, because here he was, still with no idea what he'd tell his dorm mates.

All five boys, including Harry, were PJ-clad and somehow had managed to fit themselves onto one bed.

"Harry, what happened when Snape dragged you off like that? He looked homicidal!" Dean asked, with a look of incredulity that Harry was alive after such an incident.

It was then that Harry realised that his unfortunate French situation gave him a bit longer to come up with an excuse. That was, until Dean pulled out a Muggle notebook.

Cursing such simplicities as paper and pen, Harry decided that perhaps the truth was best. They'd figure it out eventually, especially if he kept having meetings like that with Snape . . .

So he wrote, _I might've . . . kinda . . . repeated my dare from the other night._

To his surprise, the four boys started laughing. Seamus managed to choke out, "Escape tactic, eh?"

Harry cleared his throat nervously, and wrote, _Partially . . ._

They all looked at him then, confusion marring their faces. Then, out of the blue, Ron piped up, "I never thought I'd see the day that Harry made out with Snape of his own accord."

Harry turned to look at Ron, who had the biggest grin plastered on his face. The other three soon had matching expressions and Seamus continued for him, "You know what this means, mate? Chocolates and teddy bears, and pink frilly cards, and—"

He was cut off by an amused cuff on the head from Harry.

Dean threw in his logic, for good measure. "It makes sense, really. You never dated much, did you? Except Cho . . ."

At the mention of Cho, all five shuddered. Harry had told them, the one time he'd chosen Truth, what had happened with her in his Fifth Year. They had all agreed that Harry was a scarred man, and moved on.

Despite this, Harry was still blushing like mad, and attempting to sink into the pillows on the bed. Bracing himself, he wrote nervously, _So you don't hate me?_

His dorm mates looked shocked. Surprisingly, it was Neville that spoke first. "Harry, you're our friend, and who cares if you like guys? It's actually more widely accepted in the Wizarding World than the Muggle World."

Dean and Seamus nodded. Ron grinned again. "Harry Potter the Raging Fairy. Has a nice ring to it—Hey!"

He had been cuffed upside the head, too.

Searching for anything to look at, Harry glanced at his watch. It was 12:07. He held it up to Ron's face and poked the watch-face several times.

"Wha—? Oh, yeah, hold on . . ."

Ron pulled out the book he'd used to find the French charm from the night before and located the page to find the counter-curse.

Once Harry was French-free, he twirled around cheerfully. "The hills are alive . . ."

He resumed his spot on the bed amidst his dorm mates, who were snorting with amusement. When it was quiet again, Harry fidgeted. "So—does this mean you, er, accept me?"

"Duh, Harry!"

"Of course!"

"Definitely!"

"We need an initiation ceremony!"

They all turned to stare at Seamus. His smile faltered for a minute. "What?"

Harry asked, "Initiation ceremony?"

Seamus' smile returned full-blast, with a maniacal gleam in his eyes. "Yeah! We should fully establish you—properly, I mean—as a man opposed to the lusty natures of women!"

Dean and Ron snorted, but Neville and Harry continued to stare, perplexed.

"What?"

Seamus hopped off the bed, dragging Harry with him. "Hold on—Dean, can I borrow your wand? Mine's over there—Thanks—Now, Harry. Kneel on the floor, yeah, like that. I shall now knight thee."

Ron, Neville, and Dean watched, half-confused and half-amused. Harry was kneeling with both knees on the floor, head bowed, and Seamus was standing before him holding Dean's wand like a sword.

"I knight thee, Harry James Potter, as an established man of non-womanly frivolity, also known to some as a raging fairy—Ron, stop snickering—Let it be known that this man, from here and forevermore, shall not associate in a more-than-friendly manner with the likes of women, therefore leaving all the more chicks for me."

All but Seamus and Harry were roaring with laughter, but Seamus was grinning and Harry couldn't help smiling despite himself. Seamus tapped Dean's wand once on each of his shoulders then said, "You may rise, good sir."

Harry did, smiling and shaking his head at Seamus' antics, while the other three made no attempts to stifle their laughter. Seamus was beaming like he was the most ingenious man alive.

"Holy hell," Harry muttered, making his way back to the bed. When they were all seated comfortably again, Neville said, "Good thing you didn't choose McGonagall, huh?"

**x**

Harry was awoken the next morning by Ron's shout of, "Bloody hell! Mother Nature strikes with a vengeance!"

Harry rose sleepily from his bed, and stretched before joining Ron in front of the window. Sure enough, there was a huge dump of snow covering everything in sight. Seamus came over and peered out as well. "Wicked!"

They woke up Neville and Dean, and quickly got dressed, pulling on several layers of sweaters and socks. When they were all burning up from the lack of cold in the dormitory, they bolted the corridors and were at the top of the Marble Staircase faster than Harry could ever remember going that distance. Upon opening the doors leading outside from the Entrance Hall, Harry ran to stand out in the snow, held his arms wide, and shouted, "I shall reign supreme in the Great Snowball War!"

He immediately scooped up a hunk of snow, patted it quickly to vaguely resemble something spherical, and hurled it at Ron. It hit the stunned red-head in the leg-region, and soon after, all hell broke loose. 

Poor Neville's reflexes still weren't as good as the other four's, so he ended up getting hit a lot. After quite a bit of everyone but Harry getting hit with snow, Seamus, Dean, Ron, and Neville ganged up on their fifth dorm mate.

"You will never defeat me!"

They hurled snowball after snowball at him, but he dodged every single one like they were bludgers. While they were all busy hastily packing together more snowballs, Harry ran behind a tree. When they looked up and couldn't spot him, they immediately became wary. Back behind the tree, Harry scooped up several colossal snowballs and, after a careful count, flung them with perfect aim, all four snowballs, hitting each boy one after the other. At the look of surprise on their faces, and from the fact that both Dean and Neville were knocked over, Harry stepped forward and promptly started laughing. He fell to the ground clutching his sides, clouds of white puffing out of his mouth from the uncontrollable mirth. He was soon pelted with several snowballs, but he felt he deserved it. He just continued laughing.

After the rain of snow hitting him relented, Harry got to his feet and ran back up to the Castle, shouting, "Breakfast, you lot, _now_!"

And so they all five entered the Great Hall, flushed and panting from both the run and the cold. Walking to the Gryffindor Table, Harry's dorm mates kept sneaking amused looks between Harry and Snape. Harry rolled his eyes, smiling, not forgetting to throw a wink at Snape, who frowned at the lot of them (though he coloured slightly when Harry winked at him).

When they sat down, Ron whispered, "Bloody hell, Snape _blushed_ at you, Harry!"

Harry just grinned and grabbed a muffin.

**x**

That evening after Dinner, Harry sat in the dormitory. Dean, Seamus, Neville, and Ron had gone to have another snowball fight, but Harry had stayed behind. Secretly, he was trying to plot a way to meet up with Snape again.

He reached over the edge of his bed and pulled out the Marauder's Map, unfolding it and muttering '_I solemnly swear that I am up to no good_', along with a tap of his wand. His eyes roamed over the dungeons, but Snape was nowhere to be found there. Very curious, Harry scanned the remainder of the Castle, and finally located Snape by himself up near the Astronomy Tower.

Harry had no clue _why_ Snape was there at a time like this, but nonetheless, he tapped the Map with a '_Mischief managed_', pulled his shoes back on, and left the dormitory.

When he reached the Astronomy Tower, he turned the corner to find Snape just leaning against a wall, scowling furiously at the sky.

"Hello," Harry greeted cheerfully, walking up and leaning on the wall beside him.

Snape turned his head to look at Harry, scowl deepening. "What do you want, Potter?"

It was now that he noticed that Snape was really only about three or four inches taller than him. A smirk threatening to make its way onto his face, Harry stated nonchalantly, "I think you know what I want, sir."

The other man's scowl disappeared, replaced with slight bewilderment and lust as a hint of colour tinted his pale cheeks. He moved to stand in front of Harry, placing both hands on the stone on either side of Harry's head and aggressively thrusting his hips against Harry's, pinning him to the wall. Harry's breathing sped up as Snape leaned closer, a strand of long black hair tickling his cheek. The man breathed seductively into his ear, then lowered his head to place hot open-mouthed kisses along Harry's neck to his collarbone. This caused Harry to lay his head back on the wall, exposing the rest of his neck and emitting a breathy moan that sent a puff of white air into the cold evening.

Harry put both his hands on the sides of Snape's slim waist and pulled their bodies flush together. This jerked the man's head up, giving Harry the opportunity to pull their mouths together as well. When their lips met, they both immediately opened their mouths and Snape slowly stroked Harry's tongue with his, breathing his hot breath directly into him. Harry pushed his head forward even more and they began kissing fervently. Harry didn't know if he'd ever gotten this hard this fast in his life. They could feel each other's arousals, Snape's digging into Harry's hipbone. Harry arched against him, sending his own head back again and making their groins meet, excited gasps escaping the both of them. Snape moved his hands from the wall down to cup Harry's backside, pulling the pelvis forward once more to his own. Their eyes were locked in an electric gaze as the movement created astonishing friction and Harry moaned for a second time.

He felt Snape's groin twitch at the noise, and grinned. "Like that, don't you?" he breathed.

Rather than looking embarrassed, Snape smirked. Harry found out why a second later, when the man's long fingers grasped a certain part of his own anatomy. Harry gasped at both the strong grip and the unexpected sensation. Snape's smirk widened, giving Harry the insane urge to kiss him again. So he did.

Ten minutes of breath-taking snogging later, Harry was throbbing with need. It was almost painful.

As a nimble hand grasped the back of his head, pulling them even closer, Harry wondered if Snape wanted to go farther just as much as he did. If the man's ever-faster breathing was anything to go by . . .

"Good evening, Severus, Harry."

They both snapped apart, jerking in the direction of the noise. Dumbledore stood there staring from one flushed face to the other. He was smiling and his eyes were unmistakably—twinkling.

"Enjoying yourselves?" he asked innocently.

They both cleared their throats guiltily and shuffled off with a mumbled "Evening, Headmaster."

Once they were gone, Dumbledore made his way cheerily to Professor McGonagall's office. After knocking, the door was opened by tartan-nightdress-clad Minerva.

Her face screwed up in confusion. "Albus? Do you need something?"

Dumbledore smiled mischievously and held out an upturned palm. "I believe you owe me ten galleons."

Her jaw dropped. "You can't be serious."

The alarming amounts of twinkle being emitted from the blue eyes told her he was.

**x**

A/N: I will be updating this eventually. It began from a compulsive Snarry obsession . . . review if you like it!

**UPDATE:** Thank you **Crapounette** for the correct French translations! I officially deem you awesome!


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